The good news is that I don’t have any cavities. The bad news is that I need a crown replaced. The worst news? No dental insurance.
What I do have, however, is a dental-hygienist sister who will X-ray and clean my teeth for free, and an emergency fund to help pay for the crown. Not that I’m thrilled about dipping into the EF, mind you, but at least I won’t go into debt fixing my face.
I’m getting ready to go to Anchorage, Alaska for a long trip, house-sitting and hanging out with family and friends.
Anybody want a postcard?
“Sex and the City 2” opens May 27, and I’m happy to be hosting the Blog & Save giveaway of the script necklace — aka the “Carrie necklace” — made famous in the TV series.
You don’t have to be named Carrie to win it, though. The necklace, from Limoges Jewelry, will spell out your name as long as it has fewer than 12 letters.
Normally this necklace it would cost $69.99 – but if you win, it won’t cost you a dime.
I want to get married. That is, I want to get married after I’ve finagled an introduction to J. Money of the Budgets Are Sexy personal finance blog. Once he and I are best buds I want to get married a whole bunch of times, because J. Money’s wedding gift of choice is a hundred-dollar bill.
In the summer of 2007 I won a fellowship to attend the University of Washington’s two-month Summer Institute in the Arts and Humanities. One day we were given 20 minutes to write something about a specific aspect of our identities.
Here’s an excerpt from mine:
“All terrorists should be middle-aged women,” I once said – only partly in jest.
I am wearing flip-flops that I bought at Rite Aid when my daughter was two years old. Abby will be 32 in August.
Granted, these zoris didn’t get a whole lot of use during my 17 years in Alaska. But I’m still amazed how well they’ve held up. I’m also grateful: They kept my feet off the ground for three days straight when my broken toe convinced me not to put on a real shoe.
Abby has her own cheap-but-dependable anecdote, which she detailed in a blog post called “Unexpected quality.” Her favorite pair of shorts, which she’s been wearing for 11 years, cost $10. It amuses her how “some of the cheapest things turn out to be so ridiculously durable.”
On Friday morning I was rushing through my exercises, as usual, and thinking about five other things, as usual. Preparing for a hamstring stretch, I swung my left foot up toward the cedar chest. I missed, and the top of my foot hit the couch.
Side note: It’s not really a couch. It’s a loveseat/sleeper, a purply-pink fabric stretched over a frame made of steel, or possibly bricks. The corner, where the steel/bricks meet, was where my second toe connected.
Instantly I unleashed multi-syllabic swear words. The air turned blue overhead. I swear the loveseat blushed. After hobbling around the living room like a football player who’s just taken a crotch shot (Walk it off, Freedman, walk it off), I said out loud, “I have got to start paying attention to one thing at a time.”
Every so often I stop by the Jimmy John’s sandwich shop near my apartment. Not to buy a sandwich, though: To spend 50 cents on one of yesterday’s baguettes, which I call “calypso bread.”
That’s because it’s day-old.
Daaaaaay-old.
Daaaaaaa-aaaay old.
Any of you who aren’t laughing yet, follow this link. Go ahead. I’ll wait.
Today is my daughter’s second wedding anniversary, and the blog post she wrote confirms what I already knew: She’s as big a geek as her mom, and she found herself a geek to marry, too.
Have you ever used a Blackberry or a Bluetooth to get out of interacting with a crashing bore or an insistent vendor of organic skin care products?